Whirlpools Of Ache

Ariose raindrops drop down the vastness of our world,
Distant voices heard lurching from within the void,
The train's station reflection emerges on the water beyond,

There, a belesprit woman stands aquiver,
A black crow to the thick fog surrounding her mind with a shiver,
The mist obfuscating the verity she seeks,
Leaving her susurrus as she speaks,

Her egregious heart drown in denial,
A flow of vivid memories pours to her mind,
In dulcet rhythm to her soul affined,
There she seeks tiny fragment that long ago turned to dust,
A reminder of 'her' ethereal sight,
She could nevermore find...

Dead silence hovers the station,
Slowly seeping to the cracks left by where 'she' once was standing,
The petrichor aroma filled her senses,
Sudden whirlpools of ache drowned her spirit,
As 'her' quintessence form fades to nothingness in a minute

Reviews

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